


Leave It Alone

by HippyChick1964



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:34:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7449787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HippyChick1964/pseuds/HippyChick1964
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This came to me once I listened to the radio play "Broken" by Joseph Lidster.  My reaction was "I'm unworthy!" as I felt the story was very good and I would love to be so evolved as a writer.  In my push to be that good but still remain true to my own voice as well as thoughts and beliefs about these two characters, I present this.  This story plays out what I believe would have been the follow-up to "Broken".  A one-time sexual encounter leads to a sense of freedom for one, fretting in another, and confusion in both.  This is another attempt on my part to answer the question of not only why Jack didn't say he loved Ianto as the Welshman lay dying of poisoning by the 456 in "Children of Earth" but why Ianto didn't need to hear it in "The Lost Files:House of the Dead".  This story is offered in the backdrop of Alannah Myles's "85 BPM Leave It Alone", a song I suggest you listen to a few times before diving into this, as I believe it does the best job of describing the complexity of Janto.  Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_Some are confused between love and sex_

_For there is a difference... oh yeah_

_Sex satisfies lust, lust won't change you_

_It just lies there... yeah, yeah_

  * “85 BPM Leave It Alone” as sung by Alannah Myles



Rabbi Aliyah Teelbaulm was exhausted.  During the week, she had her duties as head of Torchwood Tel Aviv, managing the largest rift outside of Western Europe and acting as the diplomatic liaison for Earth with several alien powers.  Then there were her normal duties as a congregational rabbi – from weddings, bar mitzvahs, and funerals to the odd chaplain activities at the local hospital.  She was a dark skinned woman, often taken as Black by humans although that held no regard on her homeworld, who had one teenaged daughter with three personalities, the care for she shared with her wife of five years.  And then there was taking the odd Skype call from Jack Harkness.

She knew Jack from his days at the Time Agency’s school.  He was her best and worse student all at the same time – always charming with swift, witty answers but constantly late, coming in with dark glasses and a hangover.  She was special to him because she was one of the few people in the galaxy that wasn’t bowled over by his charm and physical attractiveness, not because she didn’t like boys as she had been married to a few.  But she was immortal by birth and had had her fair share of captains in her day.  Instead, she was like his kindly aunt and when he “developed” his immortality, it was her who he sought out when The Doctor could be of no help.  It was also the good rabbi who helped him finally accept a life in Torchwood, although others would take credit.

Normally, she would love hearing from him but it was Friday night, just after services, and her feet, head and eyes hurt.  She just wanted to curl up with Sarah and put on a DVD, preferably a comedy.  But her psychic powers, which worked wonders during delicate diplomatic negotiations, were pointing out that Jack Harkness needed to talk, now.  “What’s up luv?!  Usually, you call me on Sundays like a good grandson.”

“Ha, ha.  Cute,” Jack replied.

She took a good seat in front of the computer and smiled for she had a feeling that this call wasn’t about something bad but a bit of confusion.  “Pshaw!  You know I love hearing from you.  When are you going to come out for a visit?  I haven’t had one of those Harkness hugs in what must be ages.”

Sarah peeked her head into Aliyah’s office, saw Jack on the screen, and scoffed off in a huff.  She never did like Jack – thought him an arrogant, cocky sex-freak.  “Hallo Sarah!  So lovely to see . . . well, not see you?”

“Another one who hasn’t fallen prey to your charms, eh?” Aliyah laughed.

“She just doesn’t know what she is missing!”  The line got suddenly silent, and Jack’s expression pensive.

“What’s wrong?” Aliyah asked.  She was confused because her hyper-empathic sense led her to believe something wonderful was on his mind but his face looked distraught.  “Did something happen to a member of the team?”

“No.  Well.  Kinda.”

“Huh?”

Jack ran his fingers through his hair, as the words stumbled out, “I got laid.”

“Darling, if that supposed to be an international holiday commerce as we know it would collapse within days,” she teased.  “What about it?  Was it male, female, or alien?  And does it have more than four appendages?  Oh, wait a minute, actually I don’t need that much detail.”

“It’s human.  Male actually,” he said shyly, not a term often applied to Jack Harkness.

Aliyah was still not clear on why something Jack usually celebrated with much vibrato and bragging was being shared with her as if he was Charlie Brown after successfully giving the “Red-Head Girl” a rose.  “Okay, but Jack you sleep with men all the time.  I think most of the English gay and bi community is familiar with you along with a few straying straight guys and transgender folks.  What’s the big deal?”

“I just came from screwing one of my team,” he said barely in a whisper.

“Really?  Well, it can’t be that Gwen gal and anyway last I heard from you she had just stopped shagging Owen and went back to her boyfriend.  Oh, my G-d!  It wasn’t Owen, was it?  I mean, isn’t Toshiko madly in love with him.  Oh, Jack, you can be so rude!”

“It wasn’t Owen!” he said sternly but still in hush tones.

Aliyah thought a moment, running mentally through a mental list of recent Cardiff members.  When the light bulb went off, she was quite surprised.  “You mean that sweet young man, what’s his name?  The one who serves that lovely coffee?”

“Sometimes it isn’t perfect but yes.”

“Oh, my!” Aliyah groaned.  “Now Jack, you know what I think about office romances.”

“Yes I do and I said the same to him,” he indicated, then added as if to defend himself, “But, it’s just a one-off, a way to get over things.”

Aliyah thought for a second, “Wait!  Isn’t that the same person whose girlfriend you just recently shot and killed?”

“His name is Ianto, Ianto Jones,” Jack said regretfully.  “And yes I did.  How did you know about that?”

“Remember, I’m on Headquarters’ investigative unit, the one that reviews unusual incidents within Torchwood Hubs?” she said.  “I remember reading it – quite well-written, by the way.  His section was exceptionally professionally done, especially considering the circumstances.”  The rabbi paused, wondered again why this was a problem.  He seemed to have forgotten the several other times in the past he broken the rule about not mixing business with pleasures.  “So what makes this special?”

“It’s not,” Jack said like a kid with crumbs down his face and shirt who denies taking cookies from the cookie jar.  “It’s just strange, that’s all.”

“Strange how?”

Jack sighed, preparing himself for a Catholic-like confession to his Jewish mentor.  “It’s strange because I want to do it again.”

Oh dear, thought the good rabbi.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_You can pay someone for sex_

_You can't pay no one to love you_

_If true love can be bought..._

_I could never be rich enough_

  * “85 BPM Leave It Alone” as sung by Alannah Myles



When Ianto woke up in the morning, the morning after they had sex the first time, Jack was already gone – not a trace of him, not even that distinctive smell of his, left in Ianto’s flat.  Ianto sat up in the bed, offered up a feline stretch, and shrugged it off.  What had he said to Jack in the SUV – after he’d asked Jack to kiss him, then kissed Jack and Jack kissed him back, “just this once” - reminded Ianto of some drab advice his father had given him once after a particularly bad break-up, “Best way to get over one, is to get under another.”  _This time, I got on top_ , Ianto thought to himself as he changed the sheets on his bed gleefully.   When he finished and made himself a smashing cup of brew (contrary to what Jack said, Ianto knew it was impossible for him to make a bad cup of coffee – the recipe he followed was foolproof), he headed to his cozy leather chair in his distinctly English style living room.   He looked around his flat, admired its neatness and calm.  Even though it was rather dark - with the oak trim, bookshelves, and limited furniture - it felt homey.  Living in this perfect replicate of his flat in London made him sometimes hate staying late at the Hub, which could never be accused of ever being comfortable. 

Once settled in his chair, Ianto took up his diary, which was resting on a nearby end table.  There was a wet winter chill in the air and instead of rising again to turn up the heat, he pulled the afghan his mother made him across his legs then began writing.  His script was practiced, reflecting his Catholic School upbringing, his knuckles still enlarged from the nuns’ ruler rapping.

_January 23rd_

_Damn, I needed that.  I made the first move and the second and the third.  Jack went for all of it.  He saw a side of me I haven’t been able to reveal since London.  I consider myself bisexual but I tend to like guys mostly and masculine women.  And for all of the timidity I may display at the Hub while serving them coffee (that I now know they don’t fully appreciate), I’m a Dom in the bedroom or the dungeon.  Yeah, I miss those days at_ The Tightened Noose _.  I think I fell for Lisa so hard and fast because she appreciated that side of me and encouraged it._

_I have to admit, I was nervous bringing him here, to my home.  I thought my flat would reinforce his “tea boy” impression of me.  Instead, he was intrigued 1st by my book collection – 20th Century philosophy, classic Greco-Roman plays, and Steven King – 2nd by my record collection – classic Delta blues, Italian Baroque, and Zac Brown – and 3rd by my cooking - a 4-star stir fry and specialty, top shelf long island ice tea.  I got that cocky 51st Century alien fat, happy, and relaxed then plowed the fuck out of him.  Nothing extraordinary – intense but not experimental.  And it was good, very good.  He moaned, groaned, and hollered like a drunk teen staring in a frat’s gangbang video. But although we screwed for several hours and applied numerous condoms with a half a jar of lube, somehow I don’t feel complete.  I do remember hearing my front door close and noticing the sliver of light across the horizon from my window.  I want more.  I just don’t know what “more” looks like._

_And it’s not that I forgot about Lisa.  She is never far from my mind.  But I’m hungry and now that I’ve gotten a taste, maybe it is time I get back out there.  There are several BDSM clubs around – Cardiff is hardly a backwater.  I may be broken but the pieces left behind are big enough that reassembly is still possible.  I truly appreciate Jack helping me with sorting this.  I can go back to the office, resume my traditional role on the team and get a few moments in the field then rip through the streets on my off hours._

_I think I’ll start tonight . . . ._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Some love to lie, don't care with who_

_I think I'm indifferent... what about you_

_Two halves are whole, no one is in control_

_Or more the wiser... yeah, yeah_

  * “85 BPM Leave It Alone” as sung by Alannah Myles



 

While on the T.A.R.D.I.S, all Jack talked about was Ianto Jones and this irritated the fuck out of The Doctor in his tenth incarnation.  Everything reminded Jack of Ianto – Ianto’s opinion of hostile aliens, The Doctor’s poor tailoring, and the lack of an adequate coffee machine.  After only a few adventures, The Doctor wanted to be rid of his former traveling companion, however, he sensed that whoever this Ianto Jones was, he touched something within Jack Harkness that few, if anyone, had touched in quite a while.  And this “something” reminded him of his relationship with, feelings for someone in his future, or maybe it was his past – a professor, thief, provocateur named River Song.  So, just like whenever Jack had taken The Doctor to his last nerve, The Doctor called their mutual friend, Rabbi Teelbaulm.

The good rabbi and The Doctor were only casual acquaintances within the time-travel-immortality circle and had never worked together.  They had enormous respect for one another based on the many stories of their battles against evil across the galaxy and their irrational but steadfast love for the people of Earth.  Additionally, The Doctor knew the only person who had any influence over Jack was Rabbi Aliyah, and, so it seemed did this Jones fellow.

“I don’t even know what to say to him!” complained The Doctor over his newly installed T.A.R.D.I.S. video chat system.  “He just goes on and on about this Ianto Jones.  Really?  What is going on?!”

Aliyah laughed and shook her head, “Oh, why Doctor?  Are you so old that you don’t remember having a crush?”

“A crush?” quipped The Doctor.  “Surely I was too busy to have been bothered by such a silly thing!”  Then he thought a moment.  “Well,” he reconsidered, “I may have enjoyed a fancy or two, now that I think about it.”

“Certainly,” she confirmed, “but now I know your question is what to do about this situation.”

“Right, and that is why I’ve contacted you.  I mean, I can keep him from sexually assaulting the passing alien but this?  Oi!”

Aliyah considered the options.  She was fully aware of Jack’s reputation as well as his anxieties about forming long-lasting relationships.  This was the crust of his desire to relinquish his gift of immortality – he never did learn to manage the intense feelings of loss and abandonment he felt when people died, even if it was the result of normal aging.  Dating someone who worked at Torchwood, where the likelihood of living long enough to see a pension (the rate was 11% - she knew because she read HQ’s monthly mortality reports) was unthinkable.   “Are you sure this is , Doctor?”

“Are Daleks dangerous?” exclaimed The Doctor.  “The man has asked to bring the Jones fellow aboard!  No Aliyah, this is a question of the heart and you know how poorly I deal with those sorts of things.”  The Doctor sighed, “Listen, it isn’t as if I am insensitive but .  . . .”

Aliyah nodded understandingly, “I get it, Doctor.  Put him on the com.  I’ll see what I can do.”

In a few moments, the face of a cheerful Jack Harkness was on the screen.  “Hey, gorgeous!  How did you know to find me here?”

“The reports your team left at Torchwood HQ,” she said sternly.  “Jack, really?  You left without even a fare-thee-well?  Do you even know how they are faring?”

“I’m sure they are fine!  I trained them well.”

Rabbi Aliyah groaned, “Harkness, now I know why you nearly failed your management courses.”  She took a good heap of Sabbath wine.  “They are scared, overwhelmed and constantly questioning how you would want things done.”

“Ah, they miss me!”

She sighed, “Yes, that.”

Jack smiled slightly.  “I miss them too.”

“You miss Ianto.”

“What?” he replied, only belatedly realizing that The Doctor must have complained.  “Well, what am I to do?”

“How often have you two been fucking?”  The rabbi was known to be plain speaking.  “What kind of relationship do you want?”

Jack sighed, “Only a few times.  Well, since we spoke, maybe a few times.  Come on!  You know how I am.”

“Yes, so I am wondering why you keep dipping into the same well.”

“What do you mean?”

Aliyah started to get angry when her psychic empathy powers redirected her.  “Has it ever occurred to you to ask the man out on a date?”

“Why?”

“You're running off at the mouth about this young man to The Doctor because you are frustrated that things haven’t moved.  And how is that going to happen when the time you spend together is strictly filled with K-Y jell and aliens?” she said shaking her head.  “Jack, ask the man out – you know, dinner, movies, TALKING ABOUT EACH OTHER’S LIVES?”

“I’m an open book!  Or at least an open Kindle.”

“Save your control freak for missions.  Let yourself go and let someone know you.  This fuck buddy shit is so 1920s, beneath you and, if my senses and your description of him are correct, you can do each other a world of good.”

He looked like he was considering it but fear was getting in the way.  “Naw, he doesn’t want a relationship.”

“Jack”, his old friend said, “it’s been a while since you’ve had anything serious . . . “

“. . . yeah and now my daughter won’t speak to me, keeps my grandson from me.”

“Please, you and I both know that that situation was complicated.  Besides, Ianto knows what you do, and some of who you really are.  He knows the scary, difficult parts.  The rest of you is, well, all too human.”

“Hey!  There is no need for insults,” Jack grinned.  “Listen, gotta go.  The Doctor has promised a trip to prehistoric Tranfondea.  I’ve just gotta see those celestial rainbows!  I’ll call you when I get back to Cardiff.”

He hung up before Aliyah could say anything more.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_Sex without love is lust_

_That's where we get confused_

_In love you give yourself_

_Lust is just, someone gettin' used_

  * “85 BPM Leave It Alone” as sung by Alannah Myles



_July 17th_

_What kind of date was that?  Okay, I shouldn’t be too unhappy.  He did take me to a Gordon Ramsey Restaurant in London – after driving like a complete maniac on the M43 from Cardiff.  He did take me to see Charlie Chaplin’s_ Gold Rush _on the big screen at the Cinema Pandemonium, the only old style movie studio in the area - at the first show which was bloody crowded with college guys and their dates talking throughout, proving their intellectual prowess as a way to hide their sexual inexperience.  And he did rent us a lovely room at the_ Four Seasons _and listened to me talk about my family – but didn’t touch me, only proceeded to drink too much hypervodka then pass out._

_Then again, he indulged my desire for a bit of shopping the next morning – two new silk ties, some hard to get Ethiopian and Honduras coffee beans, and a rare recording of Itzhak Perlman solo performances.  Jack didn’t say a word but I knew he was bored.  He did smile though when he saw I was happy, seemed to like making me happy.  And on the drive back, he not only kept to only 10 kilometers over the speed limit but treated me to stories of his work as a Time Agent, told me how he was “recruited” into Torchwood, and offered a few adventures with The Doctor – although I still wonder if something more intimate when on between those two._

_So, if I’m honest with myself, I had a good time and I’m not quite sure what that means._

_That’s a lie.  I know exactly what that means.  Cuz when he lay there, dead on that slab in the catacombs those many months back, I walked away not because I believed he was dead but because I couldn’t handle the idea that I would no longer see him, hear him laugh, and that smothering my face in is greatcoat could not replace the heat of his touch on my skin._

_He asked me out again today - an outdoor concert of Mozart concertos by the Bay.  My stupid voice cracked when I stumbled out the word, “Yes.”  How adolescent was that?  He hasn’t shagged me in weeks, not popped up at my flat, pinched my ass while “coincidentally” finding me in the archives.  Yet, he’ll stare at me from across the room but then walk away if I look toward him.  There was that fabulous kiss in his office the other day, the day before we sent Tommy back to 1918.  I initiated and it was some deep tongue lashing but when it was done, he got up with some excuse about needing to calibrate the equipment for Tommy’s leaving and Tosh’s return.  Please, Jack hasn’t calibrated anything in a century – that’s what he has us for._

_Still, I’d do that kiss again and again and again – just like it’s been running through my head - a phonograph with a scratch._

_July 25th_

_If something doesn’t happen soon, I’m going to buy a prostitute from Bute Street.  The concert was lovely and it was a nice evening outside, for once.  We walked back to my flat while he wowed me with more of his stories, this time of exotic locales around the universe.  I would love him to take me on one of those intergalactic pleasure cruises where the trans-boys and girls serve you completely naked and come with price tags around their necks.  He told me a little about his childhood and his close relationship with his family.  I didn’t even mind when he told me about being locked in a time loop with Captain Hart.  We seemed to be having a good time but when I invited him up for a few drinks, he gave some silly excuse and kissed me in a matter less chaste than what you give your Aunt Tillie at Boxer’s Day tea.  What could be wrong?  Maybe he doesn’t fancy me in that way anymore, just wants to keep things strictly on a friendship level, without any benefits.  But if that is true, why does each night out seem like a date?  And why does this bother me so much?  An occasional shagging was my idea, wasn’t it?_ Something to take the edge off _, I said to myself the second time I found myself in bed with him, with a raging hard-on and an overwhelming desire to feel his mouth around my cock._

_Bloody hell!  Have I fallen in love with the biggest flirt in the known universe?_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

_Ah... Leave it alone_

_Don't bet that I'm ready to sell my soul_

_Ah... leave it alone_

_Don't mean that I'm willing to make it alone_

_Am I missing the point_

_Ah... leave it alone_

  * “85 BPM Leave It Alone” as sung by Alannah Myles



 

At 3:13am Ianto Jones was awakened by the persistent ringing of his doorbell.  “Who the bloody hell is this?” he said as he stumbled into his slippers and made his way to answer.  “Whoever you are, this better not be some prank!” he shouted over the receiver.

“It’s Jack.  Open the door!”

This got Ianto’s attention _.  Shit, can’t the rift let aliens in tomorrow morning or, better yet, Monday after 8:30am?_ he thought as he buzzed Jack in.

He had barely gotten to the door to his flat when Jack Harkness pushed it open and Ianto against the wall across from it.  It was only after Jack had pressed his body against Ianto’s that the Welshman realized that all Jack was wearing were shoes, his greatcoat, and raging erection at least in part fueled by hypervodka.  Jack immediately began alternating between sucking and kissing Ianto’s neck.  He tore open the man’s velvet red pajama top like something out of a bad, late night softcore porn movie and began teasing Ianto’s nipples.  Jack stopped only long enough to whisper into Ianto’s ear, “I’ve tried being nice, doing things the right way like Aliyah said I should.”  He had Ianto weak and swooning when he stopped again but this time, he let Ianto go completely and said sternly, finger wagging like a chastising parent, “Listen you!  You can’t be with anyone but me.”

“How do you know who I’ve been with?” Ianto asked more out of curiosity than anything else.

“And you don’t go to that club with anyone but me,” Harkness further demanded.  “My safe word is Tittles.”

“Tittles?  That’s absurd.”

“Yes, but its use can never be misinterpreted.”  He went back to kissing and licking the other side of Ianto’s neck, this time while massaging Ianto’s growing dick. 

Jack’s hands around his shaft, stroking the silk pajama material around it was extremely erotic and if Jack kept it up for much longer, Ianto was going to blow his load standing there in his hallway.  “Good G-d man!” Ianto exclaimed in a haughty, guttural intonations.  “What are you doing to me?”

Jack pulled away and looked directly at Ianto.  “Shut up and let me do it,” Jack groaned returning to Ianto skin, with bites into the man’s shoulder blade.

The pain from Jack’s teeth directed energizing, searing all over Ianto’s body.  Could this be Ianto’s fantasy?   Someone he could sexually tussle with, pull and tug until they fell into a heap of sweaty, happy exhaustion was the theme he had masturbated to since his first visit to a BDSM orgy several years before meeting Lisa.  Her tight, dark skin left nice marks in response to his bindings and she giggled perfectly when he spanked her ass.  And although this was a lovely ambush, it was simultaneously frustrating.  Something wasn’t right and it had to stop.  “Jack, please stop.  Tittles.”

It was Ianto’s tone that halted Jack mid stroke and bite.  “What?” he slurred unhappily, himself finding this more than erotically pleasing.

“Jack.  What are you doing?” asked Ianto.  “This is supposed to be something casual, a one off.”

Jack, still a bit drunk, pushed Ianto aside and walked past him.  “I don’t know,” he mumbled eventually collapsing on the couch.  “I just couldn’t . . . I haven’t seen you in . . . ..”

“Hours?” Ianto completed.  He rubbed the spot Jack had bitten and tried to rearrange his pajamas, dignity, and composure.  “I thought we’d agreed,” he lied for he knew what Jack meant.

“Are you mocking me?”

“No, it’s just . . .”

“Just what?” Jack closed his eyes, allowing his disappointment to settle like bile forced back into the stomach.

Ianto walked over to the leather high back across from Jack and sat like a parent about to remind a teen of their curfew.  “You know, this has gotten out of hand.”  He rubbed his hands together to hide their shakiness. 

“You don’t say,” Jack sarcastically responded as he leaned back, his eyes closed to stop his head from spinning.

“Well, I can’t have you falling in love with me, now can I?” Ianto quipped.  “I mean who ever heard of a captain falling for a tea boy, after all!”

“Truly, we can’t have that now can we?”

Ianto frowned, “I’m being serious with you Jack!”

“When you’re not around, you’re all I think about . . . “

“And when I am, you find any excuse to touch me,” Ianto finished. 

The room grew silent, a slight moonlight coming through the drapes, dividing the room.  They knew what they wanted but not what to say.  “I’m not touching you now,” Jack replied.

Ianto was moved by the sadness in Jack’s voice.  He came over to the opposite end of the couch.  Jack shuffled over far enough to lay his head on Ianto’s lap.  Ianto stroked Jack’s head like one would a sad kitten.  Both looked out of the window, sadden by a self-imposed stalemate.

It was Jack’s tear that ended the silence between them.  The thick, heavy droplets soaked a hole in the thigh of Ianto’s pajama pants.  The wetness startled Ianto, reminded him of who was the most vulnerable in this relationship.   _Ah, there is that word again – relationship_ , Ianto thought.  Meanwhile, Jack was lost in his sadness and longing, imprisoned by a neediness and vulnerability that frightened him.  _He’s right_ , thought Jack, _I want to touch him all the time, needing to feel his body against me.  It feels so affirming, reassuring, reminding me I’m not just some dead man walking_.

“It’s late,” Ianto said while physically encouraging Jack to sit up.  “Let’s go to bed.”  He stood but Jack sat up, looking at Ianto as if to ask, which bed, mine or yours?  “I’ve just gotten a new herbal tea blend that should help us both relax,” Ianto answered.  The light breeze carrying Jack’s scent arrived at Ianto’s brain sooner than Jack becoming upright.  Ianto was immediately drawn in and moved toward Jack, ostensibly to help his boss to his feet but really, this time Ianto wanted to touch him and they both knew it.  They both grinned childishly.  Jack put his forehead against Ianto and closed his eyes to enjoy the rejuvenating touch. Ianto held Jack close but around the arms, not the waste.  Unbeknownst to Jack, Ianto looked off into the distance, wondered where all this meant and, more importantly, where all this was leading.  “Fy un annwyl,” he said in Welsh. 

“Yes, ‘my beloved one’,” answered Jack smiling as he rubbed his cheek against Ianto’s.  But Jack felt Ianto’s apprehension and backed away, head bowed.  “I . . . I’ll take that tea now.”  He walked around Ianto, thinking to somehow save his dignity by wrapping his greatcoat tighter around his body. 

When Jack pulled away, it was Ianto’s turn to feel the air but it was lacking in tenderness and he keenly felt its absence.  He grabbed Jack from behind and hugged him, hugged him tight.  “Don’t go.”

“I can’t go,” Jack said, standing with his hands in his pocket, looking off into his own destiny, “I can never go.”  Then he sucked it in, all of it – the pain, regrets, sorrows, and losses from the past through what he knew would be the future.  Then Jack said, regaining his well-known cocky tone, “I’ll stay only if you have some more of your mother’s biscuits to go with that tea.”

“Of course, sir.”


End file.
